


Property Of Dean Winchester

by abeautifullie3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeautifullie3/pseuds/abeautifullie3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean really hates people thinking they can have what's his, and he may be just a little OTT with his jealous!bitch antics. And Sam? Well he may just be a little more than turned on by them.<br/>Folks, it's mostly porn, with what amounts to public!foreplay, and post-coital brother schmoop for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Property Of Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally Posted Here:** http://abeautifullie3.livejournal.com/38846.html **On May 8th, 2011**
> 
> **Additional Warnings/Spoilers:** Possessive!Dean, Non-serious references to collaring, Minor pain!kink, Blink and you'll miss it references to Het, Very vague and brief mention of Season 2 Eps. 21  & 22  
>  **Disclaimer:** The story is mine. The boys, and all things canon, not mine. *pouts*
> 
> **Additional Notes:** Beta'd by: Unbeta'd. 
> 
> _Charity Fic, written for a winning bidder at help_japan over on LJ._  
>   
> 
> _  
> **Comments are very appreciated and highly adored!!! Absolutely ALL con-crit is desired as well!**  
> _

  
  
  


~*~ S&D ~*~

  
   She _was_ cute. Sam would give her that. Probably no more than five-foot-three in her white, canvas sneakers. Little gold ankle bracelet on one stem of tanned legs leading up to not-quite-obscene denim shorts. Plaid peasant blouse (yes, Sam had dated Jess long enough to know what a "peasant blouse" was) that dipped low to display her ample cleavage. Dean's lips were nicer, but her small, bowed mouth - along with huge blue eyes set behind dark curled lashes, and a mass of lose, blonde curls that bounced when she giggled - seriously upped the whole cuteness factor. And maybe, with the way she was sucking her banana daiquiri through a red twirly straw, she was just a little bit _hot_ too.  
   It wasn't like he and Dean never took a quick stroll down curvier lanes every now and then - Dean more so than Sam. But ever since Cold Oak, Dean had been nothing short of full blown possessive of Sam. Waitresses couldn't give a smile while refilling his coffee without Dean snapping at them. If a witness seemed a tad too helpful, let their eyes linger too long on Sam, Dean was instantly boring into them with unwarranted death glares. Hell, when some young kid working the counter of a gas station had forgotten to ring up Sam's Mt. Dew, and told him not to worry about it, Sam was fairly certain Dean was gonna make the guy cry with his nonsensical tirade.  
   So yeah, while she may have been cute, Dean? Dean was adorable. Sure the jealousy bit could be a pain in the ass, and sometimes Sam wondered why Dean didn't just get him a collar with the tags "Property of Dean Winchester" attached, and be done with it. But for the most part Sam thought it was, well, sweet. And just a little bit _more_ than hot.  
   Sam was surprised Dean had managed to let a good ten minutes or more of the girl's - Lexi's - flirting go on. Normally his _MINE!_ spidey sense went off within a minute or two at most, Dean right there by Sam's side to shoo away the unwanted pestering. Whatever had kept him this time, Dean was making up for it with a smack-down force that had poor Lexi furiously batting her baby blues in fear and shock - and likely a good helping of indignation.

  
   "Hey sweetheart, why don't you take those cheap goods you're flaunting," Dean's eyes blatantly dropped to her chest and back up, "and go sell 'em to someone who's buyin'."

  
   "Dean!" Sam barked. "We were just talking."

  
   With nothing more than a squeak, Lexi was off and scurrying across the bar - Dean's clenching jaw, flaring nostrils, and the weight of his piercing stare doing its job in adequately scaring her away.

  
   Dean turned to Sam, looking him up and down like the girl might have managed to cause some sort of irreparable damage to him.

  
   "Dean? Do you have to be such an asshole? Seriously." Sam rolled his eyes and released an ample huff of frustration - and quickly took Dean's momentary turn of attention to getting a beer to adjust himself in his jeans.

  
   "Wouldn't have to be if you hadn't been letting her at what's mine," Dean growled.

  
   "Shit, Dean. Talking, remember? Just talking."

  
   "Uh huh." Dean took a pull from his beer. "Way she was workin' that straw, seems to me she had more than _talking_ in mind."

  
   "You are so damn frustrating sometimes. I swear."

  
   "Yeah, well, swear all you want, Sammy. All I want to know is if it's safe to leave you alone while I finish my game?" Dean indicated towards an annoyed looking frat boy over by the pool tables. "About to take him for a few hundred, don't want to be havin' to worry about what your ass is getting up to while I do."

  
   "Fine, Dean. I promise. I won't bang any chics in a bathroom stall while you play with your new friend. Sit here like a good little toy on my shelf."

  
   Dean's eyes flashed with something that made Sam flush - and wish that his brother would take _him_ into a bathroom stall and fuck him the hell senseless. Relaxing his shoulders a little, Dean snorted and let his fingers lightly dance across Sam's thigh. "I won't be long. Finish up here and go pick-up a pizza and head back to the motel."

  
   "Meat lovers?" Sam grinned, understanding of this being Dean's way of making up for being a dick not lost on him.

  
   "Maybe later, if you're lucky." Dean waggled his eyebrows at Sam and headed across the room.

  
   The reply didn't exactly make sense, but the innuendo still made Sam stiffen even more uncomfortably in his jeans.

 

~*~ S&D ~*~

  
   "Can I buy you a drink, gorgeous?"

  
   Sam gritted his teeth, swiveling on the bar stool to meet the forced low, and near laughably heated, cocky voice behind him. Honest to goodness _pink_ polo shirt - collar turned up, of course - tight enough to be painted on white jeans, a distinct air of entitlement, and a smarmy grin greeted him. Fuck, Sam really hated rich college towns. "Uhh, no thanks. I'm with someone."

  
   "Well, I didn't ask you if you were with someone, now did I? Besides, if you mean your hot tempered boyfriend over there?" Mr. Asking-for-it looked across the room at Dean. "Guy like you can do much better than that. Like me."

  
   Sam really wanted to punch a few of the guy's perfectly gleaming and capped teeth right down his throat. Instead, he delivered his best prissy smile as he straightened to his full height. "Wow, that whole pretentious douchebag thing really work for you?"

  
   The guy leaned against the bar on one elbow, invading way too much of Sam's personal space. "Usually. If not, the Porsche and the size of my cock tend to seal the deal."

  
   "Way more than I cared to know."

  
   "You asked."

  
   "My question was rhetorical, and you need to back the hell off."

  
   "Come on, love to give you a ride. In one and on the other. Bet you'd look real good against the leather seats; even better split open on my..."

  
   Sam was suddenly extremely aware of two things: one - Trust-fund Wonder Boy's fingers against the waist of his jeans, and two - his brother's very dark and _very_ dangerous presence.

  
   The fingers of one of Dean's strong hands curled around the asshole's shoulder, turning him to face Dean with a harsh jerk of motion. "I'm pretty sure he told you to BACK THE HELL OFF!" the words were barely all the way out before Dean's fist connected with clean-shaven jaw.

  
   Blood from his split lip trickled down over the guy's chin to stain his not-so-pretty-anymore pink shirt. We wavered, but managed to stay on his feet as he clenched up his fists.

  
   "Really?" Dean's entire face scrunched up, mixed emotions of fury and disbelief displayed in the furrowed lines and squinted eyes fixed on the bleeding idiot in front of him. Barely even hesitating, Dean threw an uppercut to the guy's middle, and a jab to the face that was certainly going to leave him sizing up anymore conquests with one eye for awhile.

  
   "What the fuck, Dean!" Sam was torn. It was what he was supposed to say, the dismayed tone and appalled look on his face how he was supposed to act. And it was true, a part of him was vaguely mortified by Dean's over-the-top display. More so however, he was filled with want for Dean to manhandle him out to the car - claim what was his in the backseat before they even left the parking lot. Sam sure as shit couldn't let Dean catch-on to what his actions did to him though. If Dean was bad now? It would only give him cause to top himself. Plus, there was no fucking way Sam'd ever give his brother the satisfaction of knowing just how much it turned him on for Dean to come to his rescue. His brother already teased him ruthlessly enough about being a girl, thank-you-very-damn-much.

  
   Dean briefly considered the asshat on the floor - winded, bleeding, and moaning about lawyers and his father's prominent place in the community - shook and flexed his own bruised and swelling hand, and turned to focus on Sam with a vague look of exasperation shadowing his features. "Are we done here? Swear, Sammy, can't take you anywhere."

  
   Sam balked, wordlessly, since he was utterly failing to come up with an adequate retort to his brother's lunacy. Dean's uninjured hand, wrapping around Sam's bicep with commanding intent, assured that Sam would not be coming up with anything remotely witty, or sensible, anytime soon. The thrum of desire was already burning like fire under his skin as Sam got his wish: Dean taking firm hold of what was his, and forcing Sam through a crowd of onlookers and out of the bar.  
  


~*~ S&D ~*~

  
   The bar five minutes behind them, Sam still entirely hard in his jeans - the lack of his fantasy continuing to play out beyond Dean shoving him into the car - he dared to penetrate the thick silence that lay heavy between them since they left the bar. "How bad is it?" Sam's gut clenched each time Dean flexed his battered hand around the steering wheel.

  
   " 's fine."

  
   "Let me see."

  
   "Said it's fine."

  
   "Where are we going?"

  
   "Motel."

  
   "What about the pizza?" Brooding hazel flashed warningly in Sam's direction, nearly brown with grim turbulence and - if Sam was reading him right - raw lust. Despite the painful twitch of excitement his dick gave at the prospect of the one, Sam fought the urge to slink down and cower in his seat at the other.

  
   Eyes turning back to focus on the road, Dean worked the muscles in his jaw, the steady grind and clench clearly visible under his skin. "Order out for it later."

  
   "Why later? Dean, I'm hung..." There was that look again, this time with enough heat that Sam suspected if Dean didn't look away, a hole was going to start boring right through the middle of his face. He really wished sometimes that Dean would get him that collar - maybe a muzzle to go with it. Just when Sam didn't think he could take it anymore - squirming against the seat as if Dean were physically tormenting him - all the darkness drained from the charged stare and left nothing but heavy and suffocating desire. Sam stilled. On the outside. Possible or not, he was fairly certain his heart had dropped into his stomach, and further still into his groin. "Dean," Sam whispered, voice much more shaky and needy than he would have liked.

  
   "Nobody touches you like that, you hear me? Nobody."

  
   "Dean, I didn't..." Sam was hard wired to try to console Dean when his voice dropped to a certain octave and came eerily calm, even when Dean was the one being absurd in his bullheaded thinking.

  
   The car steered with precision and ease into the the space outside their room. Dean hit the brakes and shifted into park. "Get in the room, Sam."

  
   Sam didn't need to be told - or ordered - twice. If he'd noticed they were already to the motel, he'd have probably pulled a duck and roll out of the car, sprinted to the room, and been naked and prepped by the time Dean was inside.  
  
   They were barely beyond the door before Dean turned his attention to Sam, drinking him in like he could see right through Sam's clothes as he casually worked out of his own. "Eager much, Sammy?"

  
   Sam flushed, head ducking he groaned internally at how bad he was at this, lying to his brother. "What? No! Don't know what the hell you're talking about."

  
   "Been sportin' a stiffy since we left the bar, Sam. Just tryin' to figure out, is it the getting hit on? Like the atten..." A devious smirk of realization spread across Dean's face. "Or something else."

  
   Of course it was no use. Whatever humiliating shade of red he managed to turn would only make any indignant protest to the contrary null and void - yet the words rolled out all the same, "Dean, you've fucking lost it, man. Seriously! This 'jealous bitch' streak of yours is getting old...and out of control!"

  
   "Uh huh." Dean nodded, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it on a chair along with his already discarded button down. "Shut the hell up and get on the bed. Just you. _Not_ your clothes."

  
   "Dean, you are such a fucking asshole."

  
   "And you're still talking and dressed." Dean toed off his shoes and unfastened his belt before tacking on a loud and growly, "Move!"

  
   Pointlessly trying to protect his future dignity against Dean declaring him a: 'pretty princess desperate and wanton for her knight in shining armour', be damned! Sam's dick was straining so hard against his jeans, he half expected the zipper to burst. Despite Dean already being half undressed, Sam was striped and naked on the bed before Dean's jeans even hit the floor.

  
   The bed dipped under Dean's weight as he joined Sam on the bed. He knelt at the end, hand firmly wrapped around his own cock and tugging it in his grip. An all too perceptive smirk contorting his lips, Dean shook his length tauntingly at Sam. "Want this. Don't ya, Sammy? Huh? Come and get it then."

  
   Sam kinda hated this, that his brother not only saw through him so clearly and completely, but the fact that Dean could drive him to this place of near crazed, frenzied, need-want-please-anything. It didn't matter, there was no difference to be made or change to be had, Sam was Dean's. Period. End of story. Case closed. Sam scrambled onto his hands and knees and crawled, yes crawled, to Dean. Eyes never leaving the tantalizing draw of Dean's cock, Sam was hit with the most idiotic notion, wondering if this was what a cobra's prey felt like? Being mesmerized by the seductive sway and hypnotized with a primal force of nature. Nothing to do but give into the call and let yourself be devoured. Or was that a myth? Fuck, he didn't care. Humm, devour. Consume. Swallow. Sam was vaguely aware of his brain short circuiting, close enough to Dean that the musky scent he could die happy drowning in filled up his nose.

  
   "Yeah, gonna swallow me down, aren't ya, baby? Get me so damn hard so I can pound that sweet ass of yours through the fucking mattress."

  
   Sam was acutely aware of a rumbling in him. Not a new sensation, and though not his stomach, something akin to the sensation of hunger; a ravenous lust that only Dean could feed. Sam hadn't seen a lot of cocks, at least not up close and personal: being familiar with the various stages of erection; knowing each vein and groove, and the way it would curve when fully engorged; keenly aware of the weight of it - the taste. He'd only been remotely acquainted with one other in college. Still, Sam had no doubt that Dean's cock was an awesome-stupendous-damn fine specimen of nature. He was in awe of it and loved it any way he could get it. In his mouth, with the heady flavor of skin and semen bursting over his tongue. Sunk deep in his ass, filling him up and making him cry out, like the bitch Dean teased that he was each time his brother hit him just right. Or even rutting against one another. Bodies fitted tight like pieces of a puzzle, cocks shifting and sliding together through pre-cum making them moan at the oh-so-sweet friction. Sam could feel it, with Dean's cock presented before him, all of that sexually charged worship and hunger (but merely a fraction of what he felt for his brother beyond carnal pleasure) coursing through him. He looked up at Dean - not hiding any of it, even from behind his curtain of bangs - and flicked out his tongue to lick a long stripe up the length from root to tip.

  
   Dean's breath hitched, and it took him a couple of seconds to find his voice before he barely groaned out a whispered, "Ohhh Fuuuck, Sammy."

  
   Sam let his gaze fall back down and a warm glow of satisfaction rise in his chest. _He_ made Dean sound like that, blissfully broken open and wanting for more, and Sam held knowledge through experience that it was only going to get better. Eyes fixed on his brother's quickly filling length, Sam noticed a bead of pre-cum emerge from the tip. _Not_ swiping his tongue out to gather it and savor it wasn't even an option. And while he was at it, neither was taking a minute to tease at the slit - wiggling the tip of his tongue into the tiny opening until Dean was near painfully tugging at the strands of Sam's hair.

  
   "Damn tease, _little_ brother."

  
   It was ridiculous, Dean's taunt, but it worked. Sam knew he was too damned easy when it came to Dean pushing his buttons. But really, it got them both what they wanted in this instance. Sam let the instinctual flair of annoyance wane in favor of taking Dean's cock into his mouth - not stopping until his nose was buried in wavy, light brown hairs. The sigh of contentment was bubbling out of him before Sam even thought to stop it. Not that he would have. And not that it mattered. Even if he had concern over the teasing it might bring, the sound was well lost in the husky moans coming from above him. They were delicious music to Sam's ears and only made him want to create more of them. A symphony of Dean's pleasure that he found a rhythm to, somehow even the lewd slurping adding rather than detracting.

  
   Dean's voice broke through the odd cadence. It wasn't unexpected, Dean almost always speaking in one manner or another - praise, encouragement...random bouts of filth - when the intensity began to escalate to a new level. In general, it was his warning to Sam that it was nearing time to move things along. "Can't stand people thinking they can have you, Sam. Looking at you, damned well _touching_ you. Need to keep their motherfucking eyes and hands _OFF_!"

  
   Sam rolled his eyes, while at the same time his heart and dick gave a mutual leap of joy. Really though, it was ludicrous, and it made Sam's mind spin to a preposterous idea. He momentarily found himself wickedly tempted to pull off his brother's cock to silence Dean with it. And that it would - Sam even _jokingly_ suggesting Dean get them matching wedding bands to flash. No, that idiotic collar he'd thought of earlier, _that_ would be more Dean's style. Not seriously of course, but still.

  
   Blunt fingernails dragging along Sam's scalp, and fingers twining in the locks that Dean incessantly nagged about - but both knew secretly loved - Dean went on with his breathless, jealous tirade amidst his moans and grunts, "Can't even...ahhgh...leave you alone for a few...nugghh...damned minutes, without...mmphhh...some slut or douchebag thinking they even...ahh...have a chance. Swear, Sammy, pisses me the hell off. Makes me...uunnghh...I don't know, with those frickin' puppy dog eyes of yours...ahhnnff...get you a damn collar or somethin'."

  
   As the words fully registered, Sam choked. Coughing and sputtering against his mouthful of cock, he pulled off as Dean simultaneously withdrew. He'd probably laugh if he wasn't so fucking floored.

  
   "Shit, Sammy! You okay? Did I?" Dean rubbed Sam's back and looked at him with genuine concern.

  
   "No, Dean, 'm fine. Just, got a little over zealous I guess." Had it been something else, Sam might have filled him in on the little moment of freaky brother synchronicity, but something niggled at the back of his mind - if it was really such a brilliant idea to let Dean know. Sam didn't need to wake-up some morning collared and leashed.

  
   "You sure?"

  
   "Positive, I'm good."

  
   "Sam?" Dean quirked his eyebrow.

  
   Great. Dean knew that Sam was holding something back, and probably knew that Sam knew he knew. Yeah. Great. "I lost focus, took a little too much, not a big deal if you don't make it one."

  
   "Lost focus?"

  
   "Yeah, Dean. Thinkin' ahead." Sam turned around, on hands and knees, arching his back to prominently display his ass. When all else failed? Divert and distract. "To, you know, that whole fucking me through the mattress part."

  
   "Know what you're doin', Sammy. Lucky for you I'm about to damn well lose it if I don't get inside you right the fuck now." Dean slapped Sam on the ass, eyeing him with a strange combination of suspicion and lust while he grabbed the lube off the nightstand. "Should teach you a lesson, baby brother. Slick myself up and take you with not even my little finger for prep."

  
   Sam looked back over his shoulder at Dean. He had occasion to know that it would hurt a little - there were times when one or both were too wrought with desire to bother with anything but a few quick spits to ease the way - but he was also no stranger to liking a bit of pain now and then, when the mood struck. It wasn't exactly one of those times, however, faced with the suggestion of it Sam found himself not opposed. "Do it."

  
   Dean's eyes burned green fire, darting from Sam to his own lube coated fingers, and back to Sam. The expression settling on his face could only be defined as a sneer. "Fine. You got as long as it takes for me to slick up to change your mind, which is right about," Dean slathered the K-Y on his fingers over his length in a matter of seconds, "now."

  
   It was the equivalent of poking a rattler with a stick (and Sam had to really stop and wonder what the hell was up with the snake analogies floating in his head), yet he still found himself turning his gaze from Dean's and simply shifting his legs open wider. If he had any doubts about the reaction it would garner, they promptly flew out the proverbial window when the vibrations of Dean's growl set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Sam suspected if it were literally possible to be fucked through a mattress, he'd be finding out before long.

  
   The growl was the only real warning he gave, Dean was just there. Head of his cock pushing into Sam's tight-tight hole.  With a momentary pause after the breach, Dean slammed forward with enough force to send Sam's hands out from under him. Only Sam's hunter reflexes got his elbows swiftly positioned to keep him from face-planting against the bed.

  
   "Motherfuck, Dean!" Some hazy, barricaded off functioning part of Sam's brain registered there was a totally inappropriate brother fucking joke in that exclamation, and hoped Dean was too caught up in his own overwhelming moment of _holyfuckingshit!_ to realize it and make it.

  
   "Holy fucking shi...fuuuck!"

  
   "Get out of my head, Dean," Sam gasped breathlessly. Yeah, he was going to regret that one.

  
   "Dude, did I break you?" Dean grunted. "Not in your head, 'm in your ass...your seriously tight ass...since you apparently failed to notice."

  
   " 's not what I meant. Never mind. And would you just fucking _MOVE_ damn it!"

  
   Dean dug his fingers bruisingly tight into Sam's hips, pulled back his own, then thrust. Repeatedly. Not even stopping as he spoke, "Wait. That's it, isn't it? I said somethin' you were thinking. Didn't I?"

  
   With as much as his brother touted his own lack of intelligence, Dean, in fact, was no dummy. "For the love of...would you drop it already? Seriously, shut the hell up and just fuck me."

  
   "Am fucking you," Dean punctuated each word with a hard rut. "And? I can do both. Yeah, gonna fuck it out of ya, Sammy. Had to be somethin' pretty damn interesting for you not to just say it."

  
   "Dean," Sam snarled. He should really give up, Sam was clear on that. No way Dean was letting this go. Despite that fact, Sam couldn't bring himself to do it. It was too much. Taking it up the ass on all fours while letting Dean know that the thought had crossed his mind, not once, but twice, even though in _no_ possible way was he serious about it. A fucking dog collar. Yeah, then he really would be the bitch.

  
   "So what was it, huh, baby?" Dean eased his strokes. Fingertips ghosting over the taut flesh of Sam's ass before he draped himself against Sam's back and bit at the shell of his ear. "We can do this the easy way...or the hard way..."

  
   Sam cried out as Dean sunk his teeth into Sam's ear lobe and tugged - hard! He was so screwed, literally and figuratively.

  
   Dean gave it a minute, then shrugged against Sam's back and sighed. "Alright then, hard way it is."

  
   "Dean, what are you...Oh FUCK!"

  
   On Dean's last thrust in, instead of pulling back he let his weight carry him forward and bottomed out, pelvis snug up against Sam's opening. "Can't remember what I said, Sammy, but I know you do."

  
   Impossible though it may be, Sam felt like Dean's cock was all the way up in his chest, taking up all the space he seriously needed for oxygen. The fucked up thing of it was, it felt good. It hurt, and he damn well couldn't breathe, but still somehow it was good.

  
   Dean shifted his hips back, and licked at a trickle of sweat winding down between Sam's shoulder blades. "Hmm, let's try this again? Shall we?"

  
   "Dean! Dean, please!" It was too late, Dean was already driving back into him with virtually unrestrained force.

  
   "Or maybe..." Still holding flush against him, Dean rolled his hips in a circular motion, grinding his cock into Sam and delivering an overwhelming amount of pressure against...

  
   "Dog collar! It was the fucking dog collar!"

  
   With a flurry of motion, Dean flipped Sam over onto his back, reentered him, and pressed his lips to Sam's in a brutal and passionate kiss. He was demanding entrance, claiming Sam's mouth whether his brother wanted it or not. But Sam's fingers only dug into his back, pulling him in tighter as Sam parted his lips to Dean. Encouraged, Dean delved in even deeper, tongue dipping into every crevice of Sam's mouth he could find before pulling back to gaze down at the flushed face beneath him.

  
   Sam looked up into Dean's eyes. In such close proximity it was always surreal. He'd lost himself countless times in the open pools of green and gold, and wanted nothing more than to do it again. It was the mirth that stopped him. Mingled in with the lust and love, and even the faint hint of concern around the edges - probably nervous that he'd gone too far - it was clear as everything else Dean was allowing to shine through. Sam bit into his lip, then huffed. He was still getting fucked - pleasantly so, with their hips falling into such a natural rhythm they'd found it without forethought - but at least he wasn't on his knees like a bitch in heat while they had this conversation.

  
   "So, you want a collar? A pink one? Or maybe something with animal print and metal studs?"

  
   "You're an asshole."

  
   "So you've told me. Now answer the question this time."

  
   "No I don't want a fucking dog collar, or a cat collar, or even a damned _human_ collar! And so help me, Dean..."

  
   Dean chuckled against Sam's lips, brushing them lightly with his own then smoothing the sweaty mass of Sam's bangs from his forehead. "Not gettin' you a collar, Sammy. Not that I wouldn't if you honestly wanted one, or that it's not tempting sometimes. Damn overgrown puppy, I swear, and that would show people. Get you some tags, huh? Property..."

  
   "...of Dean Winchester." Sam rolled his eyes, letting his voice join in tandem with his brother's at the last three words. Seeing the puzzlement mixed with amusement in the lines of Dean's face, Sam opted to spare him anymore wondering and spilled, "I'd thought about it at the bar. Knew you were gonna come along and scare that poor girl off. Damn jealousy kick you're on."

  
   "You love it." Dean nuzzled his nose along the firm line of Sam's jaw. "Go on. 'm listenin'."

  
   "Even thought about the freakin' tags." Sam released a sudden moan. It wasn't unusual for them to hold lengthy - sometimes serious - discussions while having sex. There was an odd comfort to it, though it did make the whole thinking and forming words part more difficult sometimes. Especially when, oh...say, Dean's slight shift against him had given some long overdue friction to Sam's cock trapped between them. Collecting himself, Sam went on, "Then, when I was sucking you, and you were ranting on again, I thought of...of that damned collar. Then you were saying it and that's when I choked."

  
   Dean nodded, and kissed Sam again - gently, affirming. "Pretty sure I got it now, which is a damned good thing because I'm about two minutes at most from blowin' a geyser in your ass. You didn't want me thinkin' you had a kink for literally bein' my bitch. And, you also didn't want me thinkin' you were workin' your freaky 'Carrie' mojo on me."

  
   "Dean, I didn't-"

  
   "May not'a realized you were, but I know you, Sammy, and somewhere in that geek brain of yours that's what you were afraid of. And don't even bother denying it or go analyzing the fuck out of it, because it doesn't matter anyway. We've always done that shit, Sam. It's just...part of whatever this is between you and me, and...and...I really need to fuckin' cum. Are you..."

  
   "More than, Dean." Sam loved this thing between them. Loved the way they simply _were_ and _worked_. And he _wasn't_ going to think about it, wasn't necessary. Dean was right, about all of it.

  
   Dean maneuvered to pound into Sam harder, angling his strokes to manage a few perfect hits to Sam's sweet spot - which from the guttural sobs beneath him, he was doing quite successfully. Wrapping his fist around Sam's cock, using the pre-cum that had pooled against his belly to slick the way, Dean jerked Sam hard and sure. "Want you to cum for me, baby. Not for anyone else, just me. You're mine, Sam. Mine!"

  
   The way Dean forced Sam's orgasm from him, it was as if he had physically reached in and pulled it out. The way Sam's body responded to his command, and how Sam felt like something inside of him - besides the ropes of semen pulsing out strand after strand over Dean's fist and his own belly - was bursting forth to rush into his brother. "Yours, Dean! Always yours!"

  
   "Sammy!" Dean released inside Sam with a strangled cry. Quickly pulling out, he milked the last of his cum onto Sam's stomach, and ran the fingers of his other hand through the salty mess to mingle it together.

  
  
   Breath. Sam hoped he really didn't need it after all, since he wasn't sure he was ever going to get his again. His view certainly didn't help matters. If his breath wasn't already gone, it would be stolen by the vision of Dean still ensnared by bliss. So beautiful. Plush, red lips agape, with his tongue peeking out to press against his bottom lip. Head tilted back, the muscles and tendons of his neck strained, and Sam knew if he could touch those delicate and pronounced veins they'd be racing wildly with the beat of his pulse. And even the way his fingers were still tracing random patterns in the cooling mess against Sam's belly... Which, sweet, but eww. "Dean, that's really kinda..."

  
   "Hot?" Dean still had his neck tilted back.

  
   "Uhhh, no. I was gonna go with gross."

  
   Eyes half-lidded, crinkles of amusement tickling the corners, Dean smiled warmly down at Sam - the faintest hint of deviousness contouring his lips just so. Dean allowed a finger to slide one last pattern through the sticky mess, then snorted and grabbed a random t-shirt off the floor to wipe Sam off.

  
   "Dude! Did you just trace a hea..."

  
   "No!" came the very definitive retort, even as Dean smirked and quickly swiped at the evidence before plopping down on the bed next to Sam.

  
   Sam was certain his stomach should totally stop doing that stupid flipping thing. And while it was it could tell his heart to quit with the girly fluttering. The smug smile though? That had his permission to stay. Not that Dean was able to see it. Feel it maybe, the way Sam had his face against Dean's chest - body snuggled up against him with Dean's arm urging him in even closer. "Surprised you didn't scrawl out 'mine'. Or wait, did you? You totally did!"

  
   Dean barked out a raucous laugh, but otherwise refused to acknowledge Sam's allegation, instead moving on to his own question for Sam, "So, what were you thinkin'? Before the collar?"

  
   "Huh?" Sam was seriously too fucking exhausted and spent to think.

  
   "Before I said it, and before you thought it, you were thinking of something else."

  
   "Oh."

  
   "Sam, come on," Dean prodded gently.

  
   "Rings."

  
   "What, like cock rings? How's that gonna keep people...oh."

  
   "Yeah." Sam sighed, it was all he really could do. Or at least probably should do. "Look, it was a stupid thought, more something I figured I'd throw at you just to push your buttons."

  
   "Already push my buttons, ya little fucker." Dean pinched Sam on the waist, then soothed the spot with his thumb and tenderly brushed his lips against the hair on top of Sam's head. "Swear, Sammy. How can you not get what you do to me? Not bein' a jealous bitch for my health, ya know. You just..."

  
   Sam noted how his own body rose and fell with the heaviness of Dean's sigh. He wasn't oblivious to the fact he wasn't alone in this, that Dean was often overwhelmed - sometimes frustrated - by the way they got to each other. "It's...intense. I know, Dean. Drives me crazy sometimes, how much..." Sam let the thought trail off, much as Dean had. It was hard to put words to it. And they probably weren't required. Sam's hand splayed over the steady beat of Dean's chest, lips pressed to his skin, conveyed things to Dean better than any words Sam might manage. And Dean's fingers threading through the back of Sam's hair, the odd angle he bent at just to leave a soft kiss on Sam's forehead, amply expressed what Sam craved reassurance of.

  
   "Maybe someday," Dean mumbled amidst a yawn.

  
   "What?"

  
   "Rings."

  
   "Dean, I wasn't..." Sam stopped. He hadn't been serious, when he'd thought it. But suddenly picturing it... Fuck. His brother was right. He was a girl.

  
   "Mmm hmm." Dean yawned again and wiggled around to get more comfortable. "Ten years down the road, both of us still kickin', might just have to make an honest woman out of ya, Sammy."

  
   Sam was officially pathetic. He kinda had to fight against the soaring feeling in his chest, for fear of suddenly sprouting a pair of tits. Still, there was no suppressing the massive smile on his face as he muttered against the warmth of Dean's skin, "You're a freakin' idiot, Dean."

  
   "Yeah, well, you're the property of Dean Winchester, so deal."  
  


~*~ S&D ~*~


End file.
